


history isn't company

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright Spoilers, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A year after the war ends, Corrin receives a letter from the King of Nohr asking for her hand in marriage. Coming to terms with her new role is one thing, but finding her way to Leo's heart - especially when she doesn't even know if he wants her there - is quite another.Spoilers for Birthright.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> post-birthright leo/corrin? post-birthright leo/corrin. spoilers for the whole route, so buckle up.
> 
> title from ["trails", by the j. arthur keenes band](https://thejarthurkeenesband.bandcamp.com/track/trails).

Corrin had always known she’d return to Nohr someday. There was still too much of the isolated princess in her, too much history with its royal family, for her to be able to live completely happily in Hoshido. On the too-frequent occasions she’d let herself contemplate a visit, it had always been at the head of an ambassadorial delegation, working towards a lasting peace between the country of her birth and the country of her childhood. But never in her wildest imaginings had she expected it to be like this: alone in her carriage, leading an entourage fit for the future Queen of Nohr.

It had begun under strange circumstances: winter had only just set in when she’d been called to the king’s chambers. It was uncommon for her to be invited there alone; Ryoma was usually so busy that he was forced to interact with his siblings as a group, and when he wasn’t, he preferred activities that took him out of the palace. The only logical conclusion, for her, is that something is very wrong, but thinking like that won’t get her anywhere. She raps gently on the wood of the sliding door and, upon receiving a muffled response, moves it aside.

“Corrin,” says Ryoma, “come in.”

She complies, closing the door and then taking a seat opposite her brother at the low table. Kingship has exhausted him, lending new lines to his face and making him seem far older than his years. At the same time, though, it had given him a new strength and patience, and she respects him all the more for it.

“What’s going on?” she asks. “You wouldn’t usually call me here.”

“I won’t deny that, so I’ll get to the point. We received a bird from Windmire this morning,” Ryoma says, and slides an envelope across to her. “See for yourself.”

She picks it up and turns it over. The black wax seal has been opened, but the emblem of Nohr is clearly visible. The letter inside is brief, but formal, written in a familiar hand.

_King Ryoma of Hoshido,_

_I write today asking for Princess Corrin’s hand in marriage. Although it may seem sudden, I believe a union between our countries would be beneficial in shoring up our recent treaties, and in building a stronger peace. I eagerly await your response._

_Yours,  
King Leo of Nohr_

“What do you think?” says Ryoma, watching her with dark eyes.

She smooths down the lip of the envelope, mind racing. “I think the offer is genuine. I never knew Leo to speak falsely.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Corrin considers it. Leo’s reasoning is ironclad, as she would’ve expected; a royal marriage would do much to ease public opinion about Hoshido’s choice to pursue peace with an old foe. And yet, when she speaks, it isn’t his arguments that move her, but something she’s been mulling over for a long time.

“Every day,” she begins slowly, “I think about how lucky I am to be surrounded by family. I still wish I could’ve gotten to know my mother better, and I miss Azura more than I can say, but those losses… they’re nothing in comparison. Leo lost two siblings during the war, and our reports say Camilla has left on a long vacation. And he’s brilliant, but I think even he must be lonely.”

“That isn’t your responsibility.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t help but feel like it is. We may not truly have been siblings, but I care for him, and I’d like to do what I can to ease his suffering.”

“Corrin,” Ryoma says gently, “you don’t have to do this. Peace will endure, and it feels as if we’ve only just gotten you back.”

It’s been a little over a year since the war ended and she took up residence at Castle Shirasagi, but he’s right. That isn’t nearly long enough to make up for all the time she’s missed with her family, even though things are different now; her siblings are either married off, busy with their duties, or both.

“I know,” she says, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “It isn’t a decision I make lightly, but I want to do this.”

The king sighs, but there’s a fondness to it. “Shall I compose a response, or would you rather do that yourself?”

A particularly large bump in the road startles her back to the moment, and all thoughts of home dissipate. Hard to believe it had been just six months since that slip of paper had changed everything, but at least her friends had been good about her sudden betrothal. She had been one of the few members of their inner circle to remain unmarried after the war and, well, there had been rumors. In truth, she’d simply been too wrapped up in the business of running an army to spare much thought to romance – and, even if she hadn’t, she’d remained stubbornly uninterested in any of her male friends no matter how much time she spent around them. Not for lack of trying, but she’d often caught herself wondering what things would have been like had her heart been able to move.

Well, she certainly hopes it’ll be able to move now.

Corrin leans back in her seat, savoring the solitude while she can. Her retinue is impressive, but there are some notable absences: she’d initially expected to make the trip in the company of her siblings, but one by one, for different reasons, they’d bowed out. Ryoma had been forced to ride out to the border with Mokushu at the last minute after rumors of trouble there; Hinoka was expecting in autumn, and was too late into her pregnancy to endure the long journey; Takumi had excused himself early on, still too uncomfortable around Nohrians to risk a possible diplomatic incident; even Sakura was unexpectedly busy with her philanthropy work. She understands why, of course, but it’s still hard to shake her disappointment.

Her carriage has slowed ever since they entered Windmire, and the scenery outside has begun to look increasingly urban. Even summer in Nohr is subdued, and she pulls her kimono more tightly around herself. Regardless of her future as the queen of Nohr, she arrives today as a princess of Hoshido, and it was only right to dress as such.

It feels like no time at all before they pull to a complete halt, and the mutter of servants starts up around her. She peeks through the window, and is greeted by a courtyard that’s familiar even in the failing light. Taking a deep breath, she centers herself, drawing on every lesson in meditation Ryoma had ever given her. But it’s no use: nothing can calm her pounding heart, and she balls her hands together and waits.

After what feels like a hundred years, a servant opens the door and helps her down from the carriage, and she’s suddenly even more overwhelmed by what it means to be back here. Craning her neck, she takes in every inch of the dark, austere building before her. The last time she was at Castle Krakenburg, it was as part of a conquering force; now she offers herself up alone, knowing full well what it means.

“Princess Corrin?”

The sound of her name brings her back to reality. There’s a man watching her, and despite his distinctive features – snow-white hair, an eyepatch dominating one side of his face, a blue cape too heavy for the season – he comes off strangely inconspicuous. Once he’s sure he has her attention, he bows to her and speaks again.

“I’m Niles, retainer to Lord Leo, and I’ve been ordered to be at your disposal today.” Even speaking seriously, there’s a spark of mischief in his remaining eye, as if he’s enjoying some private joke. “He bade me show you to your rooms, and bring you to him once you’re rested.”

“Lord Leo is very generous,” she says, coming to a decision as she speaks, “but I’d like to see him now. Please make arrangements for my servants as you see fit, and then take me to him.”

He watches her for a moment, blue eye sharp, before bowing again. “Of course, Lady Corrin. Come with me.”

Niles leads her to the edge of the courtyard, stopping briefly to exchange words with a Nohrian servant attired in black, and then into the shade of the building.

The castle interior seems completely unchanged from Garon’s tenure: it’s still dimly lit, the dark décor making the space feel even more unwelcoming. But there’s a pattern to the twisting hallways she follows him down, an unconscious familiarity she must have learned long ago, and then they come to a dark wooden door. Niles casts her a glance, then steps forward and knocks. “May I come in, milord?”

“Enter.”

The room they enter is some kind of study, bookshelves filled almost to overflowing and the desk piled high with papers. There’s a man standing by the window, haloed by the sunset and for a moment she forgets herself. “Xander?”

Then he turns and she wants to kick herself, because the difference are obvious; Xander was taller, his shoulders broader, and his hair straighter.

“Princess Corrin,” says King Leo of Nohr, as if nothing is wrong, but she hasn’t been gone so long she can’t recognize the hurt in his eyes. “I trust your journey wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“Not at all.” She hesitates for a second, then decides to risk it. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“And I you.”

His words are warm, but he doesn’t move from his position. Corrin feels suddenly unwelcome, and decides to beat a retreat.

“I just wanted to say hello, Leo. I’m sure you’re busy, and I don’t want to interrupt that.”

“I most certainly am. But first, did you bring any retainers with you? I can’t in good conscience allow you to go unaccompanied.”

“I had two back in Hoshido, but it seemed unfair to ask them to move to Nohr. I requested they stay behind.”

“I see. Niles?”

The man melts out of the shadows, and she can’t help but startle. “Yes, Lord Leo?”

“You are, of course, to be at Lady Corrin’s disposal indefinitely, but please attend her closely until she finds a suitable vassal. Treat her as you would me.”

“Of course, milord.”

“Good.” Leo paces over to his desk and takes a seat behind it, shuffling around some papers. He looks up at her, and the crown on his brow shines dimly in the candlelight. “Was that all?”

It’s clearly intended as a dismissal, but she knows not to take it personally. He’s busy, and she’s exhausted, and there’ll be plenty of time to speak with him later.

Niles escorts her to a guest room halfway across the castle, tells her where she can find him, and leaves her be. For her part Corrin eats, and bathes, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

*

There’s a week between her arrival and the date of the wedding, and the next morning, Corrin finds herself on edge almost immediately. Niles is an interesting companion, and she wastes an easy hour questioning him about himself, his association with Leo, and anything about the state of Nohr that comes to mind. But it doesn’t alleviate her restlessness, and at last she throws herself despondently into a chair with a groan.

“Niles,” she says, “I’m bored. Will you spar with me?”

“Unfortunately, that’s one wish of yours I can’t grant. I favor the bow, my lady, and I fear I wouldn’t put up much of a fight.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for Leo to have a retainer who isn’t trained in close combat?”

“That was…” Niles’s face sets into something harder. “That’s the domain of his other retainer.”

There’s something she’s missing here, but it isn’t her place to ask. “Then, do you have another solution?”

He looks thoughtful. “I can’t vouch for their caliber, but I should be able to get you into the grounds the castle guards use. Would that do?”

“Perfectly, thank you.”

Niles vanishes for the rest of the afternoon and, true to his word, reappears after dinner with a pile of leather in his arms. He dumps it unceremoniously on the floor, then stands back in triumph.

“Sorry for taking so long. It was harder to find what I needed than I thought it would be.” 

“What’s this?”

“Armor. You want to blend in with the castle guards, don’t you? Because I’ll tell you now, nobody will train with Princess Corrin of Hoshido.”

His words are harsh, but his point is solid, and she banishes him so that she can change. She dresses quickly, slipping into leggings and a loose shirt, and dons the armor. Then she pulls her hair into a low bun and jams a leather cap onto her head; it’s slightly uncomfortable, but it strikes her as much better to be safe about her identity. Then she calls Niles back inside.

“Can you show me the way to the training grounds?”

“I can give you directions, but it would be unwise for me to come with.”

“You’re not going to accompany me?”

“I can’t. People would get suspicious if they saw Lord Leo’s retainer hanging around with a common guardswoman. Still, I’ll stay nearby, so don’t hesitate to call for me.”

His instructions are comprehensive, and Corrin soon finds herself by the castle barracks. It appears her timing couldn’t be better; the training yard is deserted but for one soldier. She’s a little shorter than Corrin, but much more powerfully built, and she swings her axe with an ease that belies her feminine appearance. Then she seems to sense that she isn’t alone, and she turns with a frown. Her blonde hair fans out with the motion.

“Huh? What do you want?”

Well, that wasn’t the greeting she’d been expecting, even posing as a guardswoman. Corrin adjusts her leather cap, trying not to wince as it rubs the sensitive points of her ears. “I was wondering if you wanted to spar.”

“Pass. I’ve got my own training regimen, so go find someone else.”

“Like who? Nobody else is around.”

“Because they’re all in the mess hall, eating dinner like normal people!”

“You’re not in the mess hall,” she can’t help but point out.

“Ugh!” The blonde woman scowls even more deeply. “Look, if we go one round, will you leave me alone?”

“Sure.”

“Then wait here.” Her opponent marches over to a barrel on the other side of the yard, withdraws two wooden swords, then returns and forces one into her hands.

Corrin tests the heft, making a few tentative passes. Despite her time in Hoshido, she’s still most comfortable with a straight Nohrian sword rather than a katana, and its weight feels good in her hands.

“Ready?”

She nods, copying her opponent’s fighting stance. “If you are,” she says, and attacks.

Her opponent throws the match almost immediately; they lock swords, she missteps, and Corrin’s blade slides past her guard. The blonde lowers her weapon, stepping back in surrender.

“Wow, guess I lost.” She affects an innocence sharply at odds with her initial persona. “Looks like we’re done here.”

“That doesn’t count. At least give me a real fight.”

“Or what?” Her eyes narrow. “I don’t owe you a thing.”

Corrin shrugs. “I think I’m pretty good with the sword, actually. Maybe it’d be worth your while to fight someone who’s better than the average guardsman.”

“If you’re so good, how come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I’m new,” she says, fumbling for an excuse. “I only transferred here recently.”

“Like I’d believe that. You’re here for the wedding, aren’t you?”

“If I was,” she says, “I wouldn’t have to resort to sparring matches with strange guardswomen.” 

The woman sighs. “Fine, fine. But you’d better make this quick.”

They take their positions without ceremony. Once they’re actually sparring, she has the time to weigh up her opponent, and is pleased to find that they’re reasonably matched. The blonde doesn’t fight with the same level of technique as her old sparring partners, which is only to be expected. But she’s quick on her feet, and demonstrates an eye for openings that has Corrin struggling to parry in time. And yet, for all her obvious skill, there’s something slightly off about the way she attacks. A minute or two in, it strikes her, and she calls a halt.

“Giving up already?”

“You’re holding back,” she says.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that you should fight me like you want to win.”

The woman moves with almost blinding speed. There’s a loud crack, and Corrin blinks at the splintered remains of her weapon.

“Oops,” the soldier says sweetly, her own sword in at least as many pieces. “Did I do that?”

In that instant, Corrin makes up her mind. “Come with me,” she says.

“Like hell. Who do you think you are, ordering me around?”

She tugs off her cap for effect, revealing her silver-white hair and slightly pointed ears. “Princess Corrin of Hoshido.”

“Oh gods,” she breathes, and then the woman sinks into a low bow. “I’m sorry for my behavior, my lady, I don’t know what came over me! Please don’t get me in trouble.”

“You aren’t in trouble,” she says patiently, “I promise. Can you find it in yourself to trust me?”

She makes a defeated noise, setting her broken blade aside. “I may as well, my lady. Tonight’s workout is ruined anyway.”

The way to Leo’s study is familiar to her, despite the labyrinthine nature of Castle Krakenburg. Every now and then, she checks over one shoulder to make sure the guardswoman is still following her and, despite the doubts she had voiced, she always is.

Leo looks up immediately when she knocks on the door, frowning slightly when he takes in her disheveled appearance and choice of clothing. “Corrin. Did you need something?”

“Leo,” she says, “I’d like to make this woman my retainer.”

Her betrothed’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes slide to the woman hovering in the doorway. She looks absolutely stunned. “And you are?”

“Charlotte, if it pleases your highness.” The guard lowers her gaze out of deference, and it occurs to Corrin she hadn’t even asked her name. “I used to be a member of the border guard, but I was transferred here two months ago.”

Leo’s frown deepens. “I have no objections, but I’m curious on what grounds you’re offering her the position.”

“We sparred, and she impressed me with both her skill and honesty.”

“I see. What say you, Charlotte?”

Charlotte blinks, and she can almost see the gears turning in the other woman’s head. “This isn’t… some trick, your majesties? You’re honestly offering me a position as an attendant to the future Queen of Nohr?”

“No trick,” Corrin confirms. “I’m not familiar with the details, but I’m sure you’d be offered board and paid handsomely– “

“Then of course. I mean, thank you very much, my lady.” She almost trips over herself trying to curtsy. “I’m honored by the opportunity, and I won’t let you down.”

“Then the appointment is official,” says Leo. “I expect you to move into Corrin’s quarters as soon as you’re able.”

*

Things pick up somewhat after that; Charlotte arrives early the next morning, claiming to have already gotten settled, and asks her will. Her new retainer doesn’t talk about herself much, but that suits her fine; she’s a lively companion, full of gossip about everything from the castle guards to the nobles arriving for the wedding, and her chatter fills up the silence nicely. Although Charlotte admits she isn’t much of a reader, they spend most of the morning in the library, Corrin engrossed in a book on tactics while her retainer idly flicks through a romance novel.

Niles drops by her chambers around late afternoon, likely motivated by his curiosity about her new retainer as much as any concern about her wellbeing. As soon as he and Charlotte have performed their introductions, he asks for a private word, and takes her aside without preamble.

“With all due respect, Lady Corrin, are you sure you’ve chosen wisely?”

“We’re going to spar soon. If you don’t believe me, come watch for yourself.”

Charlotte gives her the workout of her life, and from then on, Niles accords her the respect due anyone capable of almost slicing Corrin in half.

The rest of the week vanishes almost before she knows it. Corrin spends most of it in Charlotte’s company, alternately curling up in the library to write letters to friends and venturing into Windmire proper, and getting in weapons training when she feels too restless. She sees hardly any of Leo, occupied as he is with both governing and last-minute preparations, but thankfully she’s too busy to dwell on it.

The day of the wedding dawns bright, but crisp. She wakes late, bathes, and changes into a light robe; there’s no point getting dressed for real yet. Her sole concession to the event is pulling her hair into a neat ponytail; after much discussion with Charlotte and her servants, she intends to let it dry like that and then take it down, in order to bring out her natural waves.

The ceremony is supposed to take place early in the afternoon, and she finds herself at a loose end until then. The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride on the day of the wedding but, she reflects bitterly, there’s nothing unusual about that. She wants to believe that Leo’s conspicuous absence is because it wouldn’t be proper for them to spend too much time together before they’re married but, deep down, she suspects that nothing will change.

It’s baffling: why would Leo invite her to live here, with him, only to ignore her? Niles might know, but it would be improper to ask, and she’s had neither the time nor courage to ask her betrothed directly.

Rather than letting herself wallow, Corrin rises and changes into her dress. It’s beautiful but, as she inspects herself once more in the full-length mirror, it strikes her again how strange this situation is. After much back-and-forth with her siblings, she had settled on a Nohrian-style wedding dress rather than a Hoshidan one. It had been made by Oboro, who’d all but begged to dress the future Queen of Nohr, and assembled over almost a month of fitting sessions. At the time it had all seemed like a fantasy, but recalling the memory now only reminds her of the reality that she’s alone here.

 _Almost_ alone, she corrects herself as someone raps on the door.

“Come in,” she calls, and takes a seat at her dresser.

“Lady Corrin?” Charlotte slips inside. She looks resplendent in her pastel blue dress, despite the sober cut and her last-minute addition to the guest list. “Are you nearly ready?”

“Not quite,” she admits sheepishly. “I can’t work out what to do with my makeup, and I was wondering if…”

“Of course, my lady. How would you like it?”

“Something clean, I think.”

“A touch of mascara, then,” Charlotte decides, “and foundation, and a little blush. We want you to look suitably bridal.”

“No lipstick?”

Her retainer arches an eyebrow. “You’re going to kiss the groom, remember?”

“Oh.” It seems strange, but in the last week she’s somehow forgotten that, well. She’s kissed one or two men before, in the early stages of the war, but it had never gone beyond exploratory fumbling. But none of those men had been Leo, with whom she shares a past as well as a future, and she’s suddenly convinced she’s going to ruin it.

“My lady?”

“Right,” she says absently, “that sounds good.”

Charlotte takes the seat opposite her and goes to work, but Corrin remains distracted. What will it be like to kiss Leo, she wonders? But the answer is obvious: he’ll be dutiful about it, nothing more. And while she hadn’t given much thought to the romantic aspects of marriage before his proposal had arrived, it’s difficult not to feel like something is lacking.

“Charlotte,” she says, “if I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”

Her retainer doesn’t look up from dusting powder onto her cheeks. “Of course, Lady Corrin.”

“What do you think of this arranged marriage?”

“Maybe it isn’t romantic, but it’s a pretty comfortable deal. Being Queen of Nohr might be hard work, but you can always let Lord Leo do the heavy lifting, and then you’re set up for life.”

It isn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but she can’t fault Charlotte on her frankness. “That’s… a little cynical.”

“It’s the truth. There are thousands of common girls who’d trade with you in a heartbeat for this kind of security.”

“Am I being ungrateful?” she asks, shame burning in her stomach. “Because I’m marrying the King of Nohr and all I can think is that… I wish he wasn’t so cold?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Charlotte’s eyes are suddenly sharp as blades. “I should’ve mentioned this earlier, my lady, but… we met once before, on the Hoshidan border. You spared my life.”

Corrin casts her mind back: meeting Ryoma and Scarlet, taking the secret passageway… and the battle that had followed. If she concentrates particularly hard, she thinks she can recall a scowling blonde soldier, who’d blocked the entrance to the fort as if her life had depended on it. She swallows guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t bring it up so you could feel sorry for me.” Her retainer sits back without breaking eye contact. “You let hundreds of Nohrian soldiers live when you would’ve been justified in mowing us down. And you gave me the chance to be your retainer off the back of one sparring session, when I wasn’t even polite to you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That I didn’t know people like you were real. And that Lord Leo doesn’t know what’s he’s got coming.” She pats Corrin’s cheek lightly. “We’ll get you a fairytale romance yet, my lady.”

“I’m not sure I want one. I just need him to… well, acknowledge that I can help.”

“And why not? If you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives, you shouldn’t be afraid to dream big. Bigger than a loveless marriage, anyway.”

“I’ll think about it,” she allows.

There’s another knock on the door, and then Niles pokes his head in. By some miracle, Leo’s convinced him to dress for the occasion, and he seems profoundly uncomfortable in formal clothing. Still, his shirt is about halfway unbuttoned, and Corrin averts her eyes. “Ready?”

“Almost,” says Charlotte, and touches up her lady’s mascara. “Are they expecting us?”

“Just about. The guests are all seated, and Lord Leo’s already in place.”

“Then let’s go,” Corrin says, and stands.

Although the halls are empty, Niles and Charlotte flank her as she heads to the chapel, bickering lightly back and forth. She suspects it’s an attempt to defuse the tension, but it only seems to draw more attention to how deeply nervous she feels. They arrive after what feels like far too short a time; her retainers wish her good luck, then hurry inside to take their seats.

Shortly afterwards, the band starts up a slow march. Corrin lowers her veil, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

She’s peeked into the chapel once or twice earlier in the week, while the servants had still been setting it up. And while the place seemed cold and unwelcoming before, it’s been completely transformed. The walls are festooned with color, white paired with a deep maroon, and there doesn’t look to be an empty seat in the house.

Flower petals scatter beneath her feet as she walks herself down the aisle. Soft murmuring springs up from every direction, and every guest in the room seems to be craning their neck at her. But she keeps her eyes trained forward, as a princess should, and keeps moving.

Leo waits for her at the front of the chapel, gaze fixed coolly on her. Her first thought is, inexplicably, that he’s handsome. Then she scolds herself for the banality of that; he’s always been handsome, it’s just usually offset by his prickliness and tendency to go without sleep for days on end. But here, in the beautifully decorated chapel, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, he seems the picture of a fairytale prince. It’s a shame, then, how uninterested he seems in living up to that.

Tentatively, she smiles at him, but he gives no acknowledgment at all. Without preamble, the priest begins to speak.

In the end, the kiss is exactly like she’d imagined; she’s barely registered that Leo has turned towards her before he lifts her veil, stoops to press his lips to hers, and straightens again. There’s nothing special about it, and she feels stupid for hoping there would be. Consumed with shame, she drops her eyes to the rose tucked into his buttonhole: it’s the same shade of reddish-purple as the banners on the walls, and she recognizes it with a pang as Xander’s favorite.

After the ceremony, servants show them to their seats in the great hall. It’s been arranged so that the tables form a circle around a central area, intended to be some kind of dance floor; a small group of musicians are already setting up, tuning their instruments as the guests file in. Her own place is at the high table, on a raised platform, at the mercy of everyone’s eyes and with only Leo for company.

The band strikes up a tune, and couples begin to drift inwards and sway in time with the music. Her new husband doesn’t ask her to dance, and she can’t tell if she’s disappointed.

The feast passes in a blur, and Corrin barely manages to process what she’s eating or the names of the countless nobles who present themselves. Later on Leo makes a speech, about peace or some such thing, and she manages to fumble her way through an impromptu reply; at the very least, the nobles in attendance don’t seem to be too unimpressed, which she counts as a victory.

At some point, after dinner and dessert and Archduke Izana’s insistence that she listen to at least three of his stories, she catches herself yawning. The celebrations are in full swing, some guests whirling elegantly on the dance floor while others work their way through Krakenburg’s cellars, and it’s noisy enough that she thinks it went unnoticed. Nothing gets past Leo, though, and he leans over to speak to her.

“Would you like to retire?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her point is undermined somewhat by her next yawn.

“You don’t need to pretend,” he says, and she isn’t sure if she’s imagining the fondness in his tone.

Leo rises, and the crowd falls silent. “Queen Corrin and I will be retiring now,” he announces. Someone whistles, but he gives no indication of having heard it. “Please, continue to enjoy yourselves, and thank you all once more for attending.”

He leads her out through a door behind the high table that she’s never noticed before. Although her sense of time is muddled, she thinks it isn’t too long before they arrive at a more lavishly decorated part of the castle, one that she’s never seen before.

“This is the royal wing,” he says. “You and I have separate suites, including lodgings for our retainers, and I’ve already had servants move your possessions. Shall I leave you to sleep?”

“Um,” says Corrin, not quite sure how to broach the topic. “Aren’t they expecting us to…”

“Consummate our marriage?” Leo seems completely unruffled by the prospect. “Certainly, but I have no intention of making you do anything against your will.”

“Won’t people talk?”

“The servants will gossip, but they always do. And the only others allowed in here are Niles and Charlotte, both of whom I trust not to spread rumors.” He hovers briefly, then speaks once more. “Was there anything else you needed?”

This is it: the chance she needs to finally air her frustrations. But it’s late, and she finds herself strangely reluctant to press the issue. Besides, he’s made it blindingly obvious how he wants to play this, and if she’s to win against him… well, she’ll need to take her time preparing.

“No,” she says, “that’s it.”

“Then goodnight, Lady Corrin.”

He turns and strides off down the passageway. Despite the brightly burning torches, the castle somehow seems much darker for his absence. She suddenly wants to take it back, to call after him, to have it out here and now, anything to make him pay attention to her. But in the moment she finds herself paralyzed, powerless to do anything even as Leo vanishes from sight, and at last she sighs and turns toward her own rooms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it with another kinda-messy late-night upload i may or may not get around to editing! there's a lot i want to say, but i'll save it for the notes at the end. in the meantime:  
> a) please let me know if there are any stupid obvious mistakes? it's 5am and i really wanted to post this before sleep, but also i'm not convinced i haven't left like fifty unfinished sentences in here? wah  
> b) faunna drew art of the wedding scene???? [go look at it i'm screaming](http://faunna.tumblr.com/post/157643904230/in-the-end-the-kiss-is-exactly-like-shed)

By the time Corrin wakes up the next morning, the circlet is already sitting on her dresser. She almost walks past it, but the play of sunlight on metal catches her eye, and she stops to inspect it. It’s ornate, like a smaller twin to Leo’s, and surprisingly light in her hands.

Once again, the reality of the situation hits her. From today she’s expected to play a part in governing Nohr, a country which, from inside her tower, seemed as distant as any in her books. What qualifies her to rule it when she’s a stranger here, and one whose skillset starts and ends at the requirements of marching an army across the continent? In contrast, the factors that qualify Leo are obvious: not only does he come from a bloodline which can be traced back to the Dusk Dragon, but he’s he lived here all his life, and he’s gifted with a mind capable of running circles around everyone else she’s met. On the way to Windmire, she’d consoled herself with the idea that at the very least she could offer her support, a shoulder to lean on and bear some of the weight of royal duty. But he’s proven his disinterest in that already, and she suddenly feels very small.

Strange, that after the long journey, now should be the moment she wants to run away. It’s a childish thought, but she lets herself indulge it: what if she could buy passage on the next carriage heading east, and return to Shirasagi as if nothing had ever happened?

She knows, of course, that it wouldn’t be allowed. The peace between Hoshido and Nohr is still too new, and she’d represent far more than a lonely wife returning to her family. Although both countries have been worn down by the war, her year at court has taught her that there’s a sizeable faction of Hoshidan nobles still out for blood; no doubt they’d take her return as grounds to push Ryoma to resume hostilities. So long as her presence in Castle Krakenburg continues to forestall that outcome, she has no choice but to stay. And so, over a year later, she finds herself hostage in Nohr once again.

Corrin pulls herself back to the moment; her racing thoughts have almost managed to distract her from the crown in her hands. She notices absently that someone’s left a hand mirror on her dresser, and it strikes her as an odd courtesy.

Every fiber of her being rebels against trying it on, but she’s had enough of daydreaming; the sooner she gets this over with, the better. So she removes her headband, setting it down delicately, and settles the crown in its place. Then, slowly, she raises the mirror.

The crown is properly sized, but something about it looks wrong on her. Maybe it’s the dark metal, harsh against her skin, or the severity of its design, or perhaps it just doesn’t suit the shape of her face, but the issue strikes her as more than simple unfamiliarity. The woman staring back at her is a stranger, a vision of Nohrian nobility as pale and cold as snow.

“I have always chosen the path I think is right,” she tells her reflection, but the words ring hollow to her ears. 

In the end, she settles for rearranging her bangs around it, which softens the effect somewhat. For better or worse, she’ll have to adjust.

Married life, she discovers to her disappointment, is much like unmarried life. She spends the next few days the same as the previous ones: almost entirely in Charlotte’s company, with the occasional visit from Niles. Left to her own devices, even her queenly duties seem to consist entirely of continuing to be seen around Krakenburg and Windmire in general. Really, the only thing that’s changed is the room she returns to, alone, each night.

On the fourth day, the first letters from Hoshido arrive, and she spends a lazy afternoon flicking through them. There are five in total, but the one from Sakura is easily the longest, recounting in detail her latest philanthropic mission. She writes of working in towns along the Nohrian border, serving as Ryoma’s eyes in the region and helping with the reconstruction effort. And, since both Hana and Subaki are busy with their new posts, she’s currently being accompanied by Orochi and…

Corrin puts the letter down with a frown. Jakob seems like a strange choice of companion, considering his blatant disregard for anyone other than her. And yet, she can see why her sister might have won his respect; there’s a goodness to Sakura that shines through even in the toughest of circumstances, perhaps even enough to break through his attitude.

It had been almost impossible convincing her butler not to come with her; even setting aside the fact it seemed unfair to drag him along, she’d felt it in her bones that this was something she had to do by herself. Felicia had already returned to her tribe, citing family business, and Kaze had eventually yielded to her will, but Jakob had argued with her to the point of insubordination. Even when she’d framed it as a holiday, a just reward for his years of service, he’d only thinned his lips and dug in his heels. In the end, she’d been forced to strike him a deal: six months of vacation, starting on her departure for Nohr, on the condition that he’d be allowed to rejoin her service afterwards.

Carefully, she unfolds his letter, tucked inside Sakura’s for ease of postage. His characteristic bluntness shines through in every sentence, whether he’s describing the worrying condition of the village they’re currently posted in or her sister’s unhealthy work habits. There’s nothing warm about the contents of his letter: it’s almost aggressively cordial, betraying none of the discomfort with which they parted. And yet, although she’s certain she’ll be seeing him come spring anyway, she can’t help but feel like she’s made a mistake.

She dashes off a short reply, resolving to mail it in the morning; any longer and she’d have let it slip how much she misses him.

On the sixth day, Niles tells her that Leo’s barely slept since the wedding, and something in her snaps.

It’s understandable for him to be busy, seeing as he’s responsible for orchestrating Nohr’s recovery, but this is just too much. When she quizzes the retainer further, she learns that it’s not unusual for Leo to spend most of his time in his study, only taking a break to meet with officials or sit in judgment. Niles has organized the servants to deliver three meals a day, but they return untouched as often as not, and although he tries for levity as he relays the information, his tone is colored by worry. 

While Leo’s attitude is certainly admirable, Corrin thinks, Nohr doesn’t need a genius. It needs a king, one who’ll be seen doing his best for his people instead of working behind closed doors. Because her time in Hoshido – first as its returned princess, and later as its foremost war hero – has taught her what it means to live in the public eye. Once, not a month after she’d settled back into Castle Shirasagi, her brother had explained the responsibilities of a prince of the blood: he was never able to act solely as himself, because his every action also bore the weight of Ryoma the prince, and the expectations of him as a future king were heavier still. 

Leo had been much luckier. Faced with less scrutiny due to his status as a younger prince, his reclusive tendencies were indulged, and that’s a privilege which would never have been afforded the heir to the throne. But it’s not a luxury he can afford any longer, and she wonders if he even knows what it means to be seen not just as a royal, but as Nohr itself.

(She pushes down the thought that Xander had.)

The point is, it’s basically her duty to ask to share the load, or at least make him relax a little. Better to frame it as the business of the queen of Nohr, instead of the concern of Corrin over Leo; at least this way she can pretend she isn’t motivated by selfish anger over their stalemate.

Still, making up her mind is only half the battle. The rest is the question of how to tear him away from what is, admittedly, important royal business.

She could write to any number of her friends in Hoshido for advice and, under other circumstances, she might. But Corrin is quite determined to deal with it as soon as possible, and so, after dinner, she decides to ask Charlotte instead.

“I think I need to do something about Leo’s schedule,” she says bluntly when they’re sitting around in her rooms. Her retainer has been trying to teach her how to knit, and she sets aside her tangled mess of yarn with a huff. “He’s up at all hours, he only leaves his study for royal duties and sleep, and some nights he doesn’t go to bed at all. For the good of Nohr, I can’t let that stand.”

Charlotte looks at her altogether too shrewdly. “Of course, my lady.”

Corrin groans. “And I’m also tired of him ignoring me. Are you happy now?”

“Well,” she says, “I don’t think it’s wrong to want your husband to pay attention to you. Especially when you did him a favor by agreeing to his proposal, right?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Say what you want, my lady, but everyone knows it’s only Hoshidan pity keeping Nohr afloat.” She shakes her head, then changes the subject. “Anyway, did you have any ideas?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet. But he responds to reasoned arguments, so if I can make him give me some time, I should be able to talk some sense into him.”

“Oh, no, that won’t work at all.” She makes a face. “I mean, he probably knows that he’s being awful to you, but it hasn’t shown in his actions. Your problem is that you’re trying to appeal to him as a mind, when you should be appealing to him as a man. He won’t be able to ignore that.”

She considers it. Charlotte, as someone men pay attention to, probably knows what she’s talking about; she’s seen the way some of the guards look at her retainer when they think she’s not looking, and she knows enough of her true self to realize it’s a carefully cultivated façade. But still…

“I wouldn’t know how to,” she admits, cheeks burning.

“Men are easy,” Charlotte says decisively. “They love to see women working hard for them. Not too hard, though, you don’t want to come off desperate.”

“We’re married,” she points out. “I don’t think I need to worry about scaring him off.”

“You and Lord Leo are a special case. But like I said, you can’t go wrong with doing things he won’t be able to ignore.”

“Like what?”

“Making him lunch, of course.”

She blinks; that’s a good deal milder than she’d expected, coming from her aggressively straightforward retainer. “That’s it?”

“Well, it’s only part of the plan. What you’re going to do,” says Charlotte, “is bring him a personally cooked meal when he’s in the middle of governing or whatever, and you say something like ‘here, milord, you’ve been working so hard!’ and you sit across from him. And then, as you’re talking, you’re going to lean in like this,” she demonstrates, “really close, and put your hand on his knee.”

Corrin studiously avoids looking anywhere but the wall in front of her. Charlotte is indeed really close, and there’s a lot more of her chest on display than usual. “I don’t know,” she manages, “it seems a little… base.”

“Men are base. It’s the only way to get through to them.”

Thinking about Leo having desires is much like imagining one of the creatures she’s read about from faraway lands; she knows rationally that they must exist, but it takes a certain kind of abstract thinking to connect that with reality. She frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, Lady Corrin. You just need some mild suggestion and he’ll be eating out of your hand. Well, not literally, but you know.”

“Alright,” she says, “how are we going to do this?”

“The first thing you’ll need to do is work out what you’re going to make. Do you know what foods he likes?”

“Tomatoes, I think.”

“Anything else?”

She casts her mind back. Due to its remoteness, the pantries of the fortress where she grew up weren’t particularly well-stocked, so any meals she’d taken with her siblings had verged on the simple side. They’re a far cry from the feasts on offer at Castle Krakenburg, and it occurs to her that the only time she and Leo have eaten together in the last two years was at the wedding.

“I don’t know.”

“In that case, how about something with meat? That’ll help him keep up his strength, especially if he hasn’t been eating.”

“Do you know any recipes that’ll work?”

“If you want to combine beef and tomatoes, then we’d be talking stew. I’ll have to consult my notes, but I think we’ll be able to throw something together. How does that sound?”

“Difficult,” she says, and flushes. As expected, they’ve stumbled on the obvious issue here. “To be honest, I can’t cook at all. I even managed to burn tea once.”

“I guess I’m not surprised, seeing as you grew up rich. But you’ve got me on your side, and I’ll talk you through it easy.”

“Then I’ll leave myself in your hands.”

“In that case, I’d better head down to the kitchens and see how they are for ingredients. If they’re missing anything, I’ll have a servant go into Windmire tomorrow morning and pick the rest up at market. Is it fine if we start at ten bells?”

“That seems a little early to start preparing lunch, Charlotte.”

“Beef is best cooked slowly, over a long period of time. That makes it nice and tender.”

“Oh.” Her ignorance suddenly strikes her as pathetic, and she hangs her head. “Are you sure you don’t mind helping me? I really am a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Lady Corrin, I’m your retainer. You’re literally paying me super well to help you with anything you require. And besides…” Charlotte shoots her a wink. “I told you we’d get you a perfect romance, so just indulge me, okay?”

This again. She heaves a sigh. “I told you I didn’t need one.”

She gets no reply; the other woman’s already left.

*

None of the servants spare Corrin a second glance as Charlotte leads her through the kitchens; they must have been expecting her. It’s actually a welcome relief, after being the center of attention for so long, to have people ignore her – and not just because she’s convinced she’s going to make a fool of herself.

Their destination is an isolated countertop, tucked into one corner, and it’s already piled high with ingredients: vegetables in a large basket, meat in an ice bucket, a whole row of spice jars with names she’s never heard of. It looks like a lot, and she fights the panic that rises in her.

“Charlotte –”

“It looks worse than it is, really. Now, can I trust you to slice vegetables?”

In short order, her retainer instructs her on how to chop onions (halve them, then slice each half lengthways and breadthways), garlic (roughly, then from every angle until it’s in tiny pieces), potatoes (cube them), carrots (in thin slices), and tomatoes (similar to the onions). Then she moves onto the beef; it needs to have the white fat removed, and then to be cut into cubes. That’s all doable enough, especially when she thinks of it like very precise swordwork, and she quickly gains confidence.

“Not bad, right?” she asks, flushed with triumph.

“Oh, sure. But that was the easy part.”

The hard part, if that’s what the rest is, also turns out to be fairly manageable. She needs to cook the meat and the rest of the stew separately, then combine them and simmer it over a smaller flame. Charlotte hovers nearby, coaching her through it and reminding her to stir every so often, and when she finally, _finally_ has it ready to slow-cook, the magnitude of it all is overwhelming.

“So do we just… leave it?” Corrin asks suspiciously. “I feel like this has gone too well.”

“Uh-huh. You can’t mess this part up, I promise.”

The bulk of their work done, Charlotte begs leave to take care of some chores. She follows suit; cooking was an interesting experience, but it’s also a fairly stationary one, and she’s more than ready to get moving.

She spends the next two hours exploring some areas of the castle she hasn’t had time to see yet, and before she knows it, she has to hurry to meet Charlotte at the entrance to the kitchens. In the end, it seems she slightly misjudged the timing; some of the stew is blackened and stuck to the bottom of the pot, but much of the rest is salvageable. It comes out to be a bit less than she would’ve liked, but it still looks and smells much better than anything else she’s ever made. 

She’s dishing it up into two bowls when a familiar figure enters the kitchens. Niles waves over the head cook and begins to confer with her in a low tone, presumably to organize his lord’s lunch. His blue eye sweeps the room as he talks, passing clean over her, but then he frowns and breaks off his conversation. Without a word of goodbye, he strides over.

“Lady Corrin,” Niles says. To his credit, he doesn’t sound surprised at all. “What are you doing down here?”

“Charlotte thought – _ow_!”

“Did I step on your foot, my lady?” her retainer coos. “I’m so sorry, but you know how clumsy I am.”

The innocent act isn’t going to fool Niles for a second, but Corrin picks up on her cue. “I thought Leo might appreciate a handmade lunch, and Charlotte agreed to help me put it together.”

“Did you.”

“I thought it would be a good way of forcing him to take a break.”

“That’s one approach, but I’m sure it’ll take more than that to get him to relax.” His mouth twists into a smile. “Perhaps you might consider a more physical form of persuasion?”

“You forget yourself,” Charlotte admonishes him in a harsh whisper. “You’re addressing the queen of Nohr, not some tavern wench.”

Niles sketches a bow. “I only speak as a concerned retainer in raising another possibility.”

“It’s fine,” Corrin forces out, ignoring the hot burn of blood that rushes into her cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

“You’ve upset her,” Charlotte snaps, and for once she wishes her retainer was just a little less assertive; she really just wants this conversation to be over. “Niles, you’re such a brute.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I appreciate your efforts, and I meant no disrespect –”

“I think I’ll take this to Leo now,” she says, setting the bowls onto a tray. Then she balances half a loaf of bread, some cutlery, and a pitcher of water around the edges, and nods dismissively to her companions. “I’ll see you both later.”

But regardless of Niles’s intentions, he’s introduced the possibility of seduction, and she finds herself unable to let it drop as she makes her way up to the royal wing again. Even Charlotte, for all her talk of romance, had suggested she instigate physical contact. Easy enough for the retainers to suggest, but quite another thing to carry out, especially when her target is Leo. It’s all too easy to imagine him rebuffing her; as convinced as Charlotte is of her husband’s masculine desires, she knows him much better, and she isn’t convinced that he’s contemplated sex in his life.

(And if he had, well, how would she know? Perhaps he’s tumbled noblewomen after parties, pretty things wearing the latest styles, their perfumed whispers sweet against his mouth. Nothing at all like strange dragon girls more comfortable in armor than dresses.)

Her thoughts are going nowhere good, so Corrin pulls herself back to the present. She’ll just have to be her terribly unromantic self and hope it works. She raps on the door of his study, and waits for a response.

“Niles?” His voice is muffled, but his words still carry. “If you’ve brought me lunch, leave it in the usual place.”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s me, actually.”

There’s a pause, and then Leo opens the door himself. She has to restrain a gasp; his hair is tousled, and his clothes look like they’ve just been straightened out. Most worryingly, now that she has the chance to look at him, he seems much thinner than she remembers.

He takes in the tray she’s holding with a slight frown. “Corrin. Did Niles send you?”

“I sent myself,” she says, and it comes off a little more sharply than she would like. “May I come in?”

“Of course. Sorry it’s such a mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

He isn’t joking; the pile of debris covering his desk seems to have tripled in size since her last visit, and there are at least three dozen books arranged into stacks on the floor. Carefully, she weaves her way around them and sets their lunch down in a tiny gap amongst his paperwork.

“It’s beef stew,” she says, and immediately feels foolish. “I made it.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Please, sit down.”

She has to clear off a second chair, which only adds to the mess on the floor, but it’s worth it to be able to sit across from him. Unfortunately for Charlotte’s grand leg-touching plan, there’s a desk between them, but it doesn’t feel like much of a loss.

“So,” he says, “how have you been settling in?”

The irony of it is too much to bear. She tries to plaster a smile onto her face, and answers as lightly as she can. “It’s been a challenge, but –” 

She stops herself sharply. What is she doing, playing the diplomat when she’s sick and tired of how he’s been treating her? If she’s planning to put her foot down, it has to be now. So Corrin laces her hands together in her lap, knuckles whitening against each other from the tension she refuses to let out, and goes for it.

“I’m miserable, and I came to talk to you about it. I have Charlotte, who I’m grateful for, but I haven’t got a purpose here. Every day feels the same as the last.”

“Really?” He’s studying her intently, but there’s no emotion beyond curiosity in his tone. “You seemed happy enough before.”

What a supreme idiocy; she almost has to laugh. “When I was caged and too naïve to resent it? It wasn’t Nohr that I liked, Leo, because the captivity wore on me back then as well. It was the people who made it bearable.”

And they were all gone now, weren’t they? Jakob left behind in Hoshido, Felicia returned to the Ice Tribe, Flora and Gunter dead, and as for Xander and Elise, that was a burden she’d bear all her life. Even Camilla had left the castle, and Leo carried himself like a stranger.

“No,” she says, emboldened, “not even that. It was always you.”

She’d loved all her siblings, of course, but her relationships with each of them had been slightly different. Xander had played the role of the dutiful older brother, seemingly distant but hiding a deep protectiveness; Camilla had doted on her, pampering her and bringing back gifts at every opportunity; Elise had always been open with her affection, quick to rope her into a game or conversation.

But she and Leo, the closest in age, had always been different. Growing up together, they’d shared every secret, every emotion, and she’d never quite known where she ended and he began. Long before she’d seen Krakenburg for herself, she’d learned it through the eyes of Nohr’s younger prince: the looming battlements, populated by a flock of ravens the servants could never quite seem to get rid of, and the great hall, filled with stained-glass windows depicting scenes from history, and the library, with towering shelves that seemed to stretch up and outward forever. And even when their paths had diverged, as he’d stepped into the role of the genius mage-prince and she’d stayed in her tower, he’d always made time to write to her.

She wonders briefly what had changed, but the answer is painfully obvious: she had.

“Corrin –”

“I’m not done talking,” she says, and somehow that actually shuts him up. “I understand why you don’t want anything to do with me, but I wish you’d at least said so.”

“If that’s true,” he says, not quite looking at her, “why do you think I asked you to marry me?”

“I don’t know, Leo, and I doubt it was for the sake of peace. But I don’t understand a thing about you these days anyway.”

He doesn’t say a word as she stands and leaves, and she isn’t sure whether that makes her feel furious or thankful. Charlotte peels herself off the wall as she passes, ready to attend, but Corrin shakes her head sharply; she’s in no mood to deal with anyone.

There’s a restlessness boiling in her that she can’t name, and she knows instinctively it’s the dragon. She aches to be free of this place, to just _run_ until she can’t remember herself. But she can’t run around the castle in that state, and Windmire is so relentlessly urban that it’s an even worse option, and once again she finds herself penned in.

Instead she takes herself to the training yard and puts herself through every drill she’s ever learnt, with sword and axe and bow, until sweat glues her hair to her face and her breath comes shorter and shorter. She has a vague sense of the guards moving around her, whispering to each other in voices they think she can’t hear, but she tunes them out. Let them talk! Let them know she’s burning with an anger she can’t seem to exorcize, and let them speculate who caused it.

It feels like years before her body actually begins to protest so badly that she can’t go on. In truth, it’s only been a few hours, but then her hunger slams into her all at once, and it occurs to her that she’d never actually eaten lunch. But she can’t bring herself to visit the kitchens, even though the servants there would fall over themselves to prepare something for her; she still needs to be alone. In that case, she decides, she’ll return to her rooms first and deal with that problem later.

There’s an enticing smell in the royal wing when she returns, each component of the scent carrying clearly to her nose. There’s some kind of meat, and overlaying it… tomatoes?

She wants to crawl into bed, but her curiosity – and hunger – get the better of her. So she follows it and, when it winds up at her bedroom, peeks cautiously around the doorframe.

Leo is perched on the edge of her bed, busy reading. On her nightstand, there’s a bowl propped over a small fire spell, and she suddenly recall what the smell is: it’s an untouched portion of her stew, the one she left behind in the study.

He looks up at the sound of her footfalls as she moves to sit beside him, and closes his book quietly. His eyes betray nothing, but his voice is soft when he speaks. “You came.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologize. Really.”

In all their years together, she’s never known him to be insincere. And yet, for all her exhaustion, the hurt sticks in her like a thorn, and she can’t resist another dig at him. “I didn’t realize you still cared.”

“Corrin, how could I not? Nohr has had too many unhappy queens, and it would kill me to see you become one of them.” He combs a hand through his messy fringe. “It wouldn’t be right to ask if we can go back to the way we used to be. I know it’s impossible, and we can’t just pretend nothing has changed. But at the very least, if you’d give me another chance, I’d like us to try and be friends. Believe me, I know I don’t deserve it, but –”

“Leo,” she cuts in wearily. “I forgive you.” 

His face changes from deadly serious to his usual guarded expression in an instant. “That easily?”

“Well, yes. I’m tired of holding things against you.”

“My mistake.” There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I forgot you’ve always been like this.”

“Were we truly apart so long?”

“Not quite. I thought, during the war, that it would be easier to bear if I tried to forget how warm you always were. That if I could build you into some kind of demon, it would help me bury my doubts. I suppose it’s difficult for me to shed that habit.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” she says. Boldly, she reaches out and rests her fingers on his cheek, trying to convey her feelings; his skin is warm under hers, and she fancies she can feel his pulse ringing through his veins. To her surprise, Leo leans into the contact, eyes fluttering closed.

“Corrin,” he says, “it’s been so long since anyone touched me.”

“I know,” she says. “But I’m here now, and I plan to stay.”

When he opens his eyes again, they’re as sharp as ever, and the moment dissipates. She returns her hand to her side. “Then, would it please you if I set aside time in the evenings for us to be together?”

“Can you afford to do that?”

“Not really,” he admits, “but it’s immaterial. I can work harder to compensate.”

“That doesn’t solve anything,” she says, and it comes out almost fondly. “Actually, I was meaning to tell you that I want to take a more active role in governing the kingdom. If we can split your work between us, it should solve both our problems.”

“And if I say yes, you’ll agree to spend time with me?”

“They’re not related,” she says. “This isn’t a transaction, Leo. I want to support you however I can, as your queen and as your friend.”

“Gods,” he says, and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re still so good. Even after everything –”

“We can start tomorrow,” she says, more to spare him from going on than any real desire to straighten things out. “Tonight, if you can, please try and get some sleep. I know work is important too, but that doesn’t mean you can neglect your health.”

“I don’t stay awake because I have to work. To be honest,” he says, and sighs, “even when I try to sleep, I have the same nightmare. I know it’s pathetic, but nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

The question lies heavy on her tongue, but she has to ask it. “What about? They say that sharing bad dreams makes them less scary.”

“It’s… it’s so stupid, Corrin. In my dreams, I manage to stop Elise from going with you.”

It’s a stunning admission of vulnerability, and she aches to hear it. “Leo,” she says gently, “you don’t have to keep torturing yourself.”

“It’s difficult not to.”

“Well, would it help if I stayed with you tonight?”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“I’m your wife.”

He flushes, and immediately turns his head away to hide it. “You’re right. I’m sorry, but now that we’re talking like this…”

“It’s nostalgic,” she agrees. “So is that a yes?”

“Well, I’ve tried everything else.”

“Then it’s settled,” she says, “and I’m going to bathe. I feel disgusting, and I’d like to not.”

“Wait. Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that lunch was delicious.”

“It was all Charlotte,” she admits. “She talked me through it, and I just did as she said.”

“Was the sentiment Charlotte’s too?”

He’s obviously joking, but she wants her answer to be real. “Of course not. I truly did want to reach you.”

Leo turns away in response, but not before she catches the edge of a smile.

She wolfs down her dinner, grabs a change of clothes, and goes to bathe. The hot water feels heavenly, soaking into her exhausted bones in a way that makes her want to stay there forever. She nearly drifts off in the tub, and it takes all her energy to rise from it.

When she returns, Leo is already in his nightclothes and tucked into her bed. To be honest, he’s on the side where she usually sleeps, but she doesn’t have the heart to tell him as much. Unsurprisingly, he’s engrossed in the same book as earlier, but his eyes flick to her as soon as she enters.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh.” She closes the door behind her, then slips into bed.

“Then goodnight, Corrin.”

“Goodnight.”

He blows out the candle, and then they’re together in the dark.

For somebody she’s known almost her whole life, it’s strange how aware she is of Leo. Every sound he makes is magnified by her dragon ears, from the creaking of the bed as he shifts to the quiet rasp of air against his lips. And she thinks she can almost imagine the heat of his skin, like a furnace at her back, and it’s magnified tenfold when she closes her eyes. Only when the cadence of his breathing changes, slowing down and evening out, does she finally relax.

She sleeps through the night, and when she wakes, the sun is already high. The other side of the bed is empty, but when she rolls into the hollow left by his body, she doesn’t think she’s imagining the warmth that lingers there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i feel bad this took me so long to update, but i guess a lot of stuff happened - this chapter was kinda tough, and its structure kept changing, and also i started back at school and that hit me harder than i was expecting. but!! i'm not dead and i do want to stick with this to the end. i'm usually reluctant to announce an update schedule for fics, because i usually end up slipping and looking like a huge jerk, but i think i can fairly confidently say i'll be updating this fic **at least once a month**! i'm sorry that's so infrequent, and if i had my way i'd be churning out chapters much faster than that, but i also need to survive uni and get a job and balance this with other writing projects? i promise i'm doing my best.
> 
> also like i said at the start, sorry if this is a gigantic mess, but i did really want to get this chapter out tonight - i pulled leo in heroes today, finally, after a month of suffering, and i guess i wanted to pay that forward to all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4am? maybe i will edit this when it is not 4am


End file.
